Dramione Drabbles
by 0bscurum
Summary: A collection of Dramione shorts and drabbles. Enjoy! [Expanding any of these isn't off the table, given that enough interest is shown.] See them when they post at nxrcissmxlfoy [dot] tumblr [dot] com.
1. Paris

Hermione runs into Draco, two or so months after the war. The Malfoy family fled to France, incidentally where Hermione decided to take a small solo vacation. She runs into him at the small bistro in the ground floor of her hotel as she goes to get breakfast on her fourth morning there. But Draco pretty much runs as soon as he can, leaving her standing there wondering what had just happened.

She comes back the next morning, hoping to see him again. Draco returns the next morning as well, telling himself the food was just really good.

"Don't run." she says, coming up behind him. She sees his back straighten and his shoulder tense. He doesn't turn around, but he doesn't run either. "Will you just have breakfast - you don't even have to sit at the same table."

So without a word, Draco sits at the table next to him and they have breakfast, sitting back to back at two separate tables.

"So, are you enjoying France?" Hermione asks, after they've gotten their food.

"It's fine," he answers curtly. And then there's silence for most of the meal but Draco just can't help himself. "What are you doing here?" he finally asks.

Hermione lets a little smile slip, because at least he's making conversation even if he is a little short with it. "Nothing, really."

"Nothing?" His voice sounds closer and she can tell he's turned his head, engaging with her further.

"Well, I'm doing a lot of sleeping, and some reading. And I suppose I've done a little bit of sightseeing. Really… I'm just here to relax."

He doesn't respond and Hermione calls for her check, silently gesturing to the server for Draco's as well. "Breakfast was delicious," she says in French as she hands the server her money. "I will definitely be back tomorrow." she adds, still in French and loud enough for Draco to hear.

The next morning she's halfway through her meal when Draco pulls out the chair across from her and signals for the server.

"Good morning," she greets after he's ordered. "I see you speak French."

"Obviously. Look Granger, what do you want?"

She sips her coffee. "I don't want anything."

"Bullocks, everybody wants something. What is it? Money? You going to turn us in unless we hand over a fortune?"

Hermione interrupts him with a big, boisterous laugh. It's full and loud and genuine and something he'd never seen her do before. "Oh, Merlin," she sighs as she starts to catch her breath. She wipes the moisture from her eyes. "Oh, that's rich. Truly. Thank you for that, I haven't laughed that hard in… who knows when."

Still trying to regulate her breath, she stands and puts enough muggle money to cover her breakfast on the table. "I guess I just enjoyed seeing a familiar face, even if it was yours." And he watches as she goes back into the hotel.

The next morning she's shocked and surprised to see his his tall frame nearly folded up in the small chairs in the lobby, coffee and muggle paper in hand. "Do you have plans for the day?" he asks as she walks up, not giving her a chance to greet him.

She's a bit taken aback, both by the question itself and his short tone, but she answers anyway. "Just a bit of exploring, really. Nothing solid."

"Would you like a familiar face to accompany you?"

She smiles a little. "I wouldn't be opposed to it, no."

So for the third morning in a row they have breakfast together, and afterwards they spend the day walking around the city. They roam the streets, pop into shops, and even stroll through a museum. There's not a lot of laughter, or goofing off, or even a lot of conversation; it's not a movie montage where they end up best friends by the end of it. But Draco explains some of the intricacy and history behind a few paintings, and Hermione gives highly informative insights into the architecture and lesser known history of the city and they have a nice, quiet lunch and it's not all bad, there's a calm and comfort to the day that neither were likely to admit for a long time.

"Well that wasn't completely awful," Hermione says, half joking, as they arrive at her hotel. Draco let a quick smile flash on his face and Hermione can't help but think that a smile looks good on him, almost handsome even.

"No, I supposed not." There's an awkward silence as neither one quite know how to say goodbye.

"Well, I guess I'll see you around," Hermione finally says, turning towards the glass doors next to them.

"Granger," Draco says, a little more urgently than he would like. She turns to face him, but he avoids direct eye contact. "I - I have some things to attend to tomorrow but… would you like to have dinner Friday night?"

A jumble of thoughts flood her mind, but in the end she gives him a soft smile and says, "dinner sounds great."

Friday night he waits for her in the lobby at the agreed upon time, and almost doesn't recognize her when she walks in. She's in a figuring flattering dress, in a color that brings out her eyes, and her hair is sleek and curled and partly up. It looks nothing like the Granger he knows and he can't stop the smile from spreading across his face.

When Hermione sees him she's suddenly hyper aware of everything, her dress and hair and how she's walking and she almost feels like turning and running back to her room. But she doesn't and he brings her one of his favorite restaurants and they're between courses when it happens. He tells her how nice she looks and she returns the favor, complimenting him on his suit.

"It's actually transfigured," he replies before he can stop himself.

"What?" Hermione asks, a bemused chuckle in her voice. Draco tries to hide his embarrassment with the bottom of his Scotch glass, but Hermione press him on.

"My family and I - we weren't really able to get out with much." He mumbles. It's the first time either have spoken of anything outside of what was immediately around them. They'd tiptoed around it in all previous interactions, ignored the Hippogriff in the room. And after that instance, they go right back to doing it.

They spend the next week together, and the longer they're with each other the more their pasts and the wizarding world start to slip into the conversation. Draco eventually asks about the rebuilding, and how it's going. Hermione tells him about Kingsley as Minister, and the changes he's making. She tells him about how Hogwarts is doing, and how she plans to go back to finish up her Seventh Year. She eventually finds away to slip in Azkaban, and how the Ministry have removed the Dementors.

Draco grows quiet and moody after that, ending their lunch abruptly and sticking Hermione with the bill. He shows up that night, to her room, to apologize.

"It's okay, I understand," Hermione mumbles. "Listen I'm really tired, maybe -" she starts, as she slowly begins to close the door on him. But he puts his hand up, stopping her.

"No, Hermione. I'm sorry."

It takes her a minute to realize what he's saying, but it clicks when she looks into his eyes and can see his remorse.

"I'm just - I wish I could undo everything. I wish I could take it all back -" She stops him by pulling him into the room, away from a family walking by, but she lets him say everything he needs to say. And he has a lot to say. He repeats and re-words a lot of things, rambles at length, talks to himself more than her at times, and ends up trying to hide his tears, but she lets him get it all out.

"You should turn yourself in," she says, after he's done and they've spent a good five minutes in silence.

"What?" he asks, incredulously. He's angry, but more so at himself because he's known for a while it's what he has to do.

"Turn yourself in. Give up any information you have. Do your time. And then make it better."

They fight from there, mostly due to Draco's obstinace, and she doesn't see him for three days. On the fourth day he shows up at her door, disheveled and in disarray but with a packed bag. He'd spent those three days fighting with his parents.

"It doesn't matter what happened," he tells her when she asks, "I'm coming back with you. But I need you to do something for me."

Hermione cuts her vacation short and, after Draco cleans up, apparates them directly into Harry's living room. There's a little bit of yelling, and then a lot of explaining, and the next morning Harry and Hermione escort Draco to the Ministry. In the time it takes for a few people to apparate out and back in, the press floods the Main Hall and before Harry and Hermione can get him to the Auror's office, Kingsley shows up to take him directly to trial.

"Granger!" Draco calls, but she can't get to him. And she's not allowed in the trial. He is put in chains and magically bound, then questioned relentlessly. He's forced to recount nearly every wrong doing he committed or even merely witnessed. He gave up every name he could think of, and any hideout he knew of. Hours later, votes were taken with many mixed results. And as the room full of witches and wizards surrounds him, staring down at him as they hold his fate in their hands, he calls out.

"I have one more name!" His voice is hoarse, but the room falls quiet.

"Out with it, boy!" a faceless witch calls.

He swallows. "Lucius Malfoy." Whispers ripples throughout the room. "He's in Italy." he adds, and gives them the location of where his father is, where Lucius sat in wait, alone, for any number of Aurors to show up and arrest him.

Draco is found guilty, and sent to Azkaban to await sentencing. Hermione, and Harry to a lesser extent, petition for a shortened sentence.

"Please, Kings - Minister! He gave himself up! He gave up his own father! Surely that has to count for something."

Kingsley eyes her skeptically. "Yes, his father, who seemed fully prepared for what happened to him. Odd that he was alone, and that we've yet to find his wife."

She's in Greece, Hermione thought. "He's offered to give up most of his family's fortune. Think of the good the Ministry could do with that." she says, strategically side stepping Kingsley's thinly veiled accusations.

"I assure you, Ms. Granger, all of this will be taken into consideration."

In the end, Draco is given two years. The Azkaban he is sent to is much different than the one his father sat in pre-war. There were no Dementors, living conditions and food were marginally better, and they were allowed one visitor a month.

"I don't understand why you insist on visiting that git every month," Ron often groans. Once, Hermione tried to explain to him what happened to Germany after the first Muggle World War. How the victors decimated their economy, and left the country as a whole in shambles, and how that led to a perfect breeding ground for the second Muggle World War. But Ron refused to understand the metaphor.

"How's your garden?" Draco asks every time she visits, and Hermione tries to recall anything of import she's read in the letters Narcissa has sent her, from her self-imposed and self-serving exile in a tiny town in Greece.

"It's okay," she responds. "It's not exactly thriving, but it's not withering, either."

Draco sighs and lets his chin fall to his chest. It pained him to think of his mother hidden away and secluded from everything, living a half life all alone.

"It's… quite witty, my garden," Hermione says, careful of her words. Narcissa had been opposed to writing her at first, but over the months had grown more accustomed to it, letting her personality show through in her words. Draco looks up at Hermione and smiles a little.

"Always has been," he mumbles.

After a year and a half, he's let out on probation and Hermione and Harry help to get him a low-level position at the Ministry. Hermione decides to take it upon herself to help him figure out how to disperse the Malfoy wealth, but they hit a roadblock when they go to create their first charity. Even though her whereabouts are supposedly unknown, Narcissa is still in charge of the accounts and trusts.

They fight for weeks, Draco not wanting to give up his mother and Hermione reminding him a large part of his conditional release was due to his promise to help rebuild.

"They will revoke your two year sentence and put you in for life, Draco."

"I'm not letting my mother spend one day in that vile place!"

"I told you, I can make a deal with the Minister. Your mother can go home, serve time there. You can see her again."

Draco eventually relents. Hermione strikes a deal with Kingsley; Draco gives up his mother, but they let the Aurors arrest her as though they were the ones who tracked her down, letting them save face and removing a lot of speculation on Draco's part from the equation. Then Kingsley will give her mercy and allow her to return to her home under the wizarding equivalent of house arrest, a move that shows his benevolence while also serving as a message to others who, while not marked Death Eaters, are still in hiding over their association with the Dark Lord. (In fact within two weeks of Narcissa's 'trial', three others come forward.)

With everything finally settled, Draco and Hermione get to work; they turn the Manor into an orphanage and children's hospital, create scholarships to help students pay for supplies, campaign for werewolf rights, and allocate funds to extend all kinds of research at St. Mungos.

Draco starts all of this under the guise of self preservation, telling Hermione (and himself) that it was all to help clear his name and regain power. But the longer they work, and the more results they see, the more that facade starts to crack. Helping people feels good, and even Draco Malfoy can't deny it.

But the longer they work, the more strained Hermione's relationship with Ron becomes. He doesn't understand why she needs to do this, and doesn't like her spending all this time with Malfoy. Add that and the mounting pressure from both Ron and his mother to start settling down and having children ("Four's ideal, don't you think Hermione," Ron says one night) and something was bound to give.

They're broken up for two weeks before Draco finds out, and he's livid. Over time the two had grown to be close friends, best friends even, and it was everything she could do to talk him out of hunting Ron down and cursing him into oblivion.

"I broke up with him," she urged. "Sit down, I don't need you to avenge me."

He insists on taking her out, helping her blow of steam with a few shots of Firewhiskey, but she insists on throwing herself into work. So they double down on projects and time spent together and within the year they're on their first date.

"It's not really our first date, you know," Draco muses.

"I mean, yeah we've had meals together before but those hardly count."

Draco smiles, and asks a question he already knows the answer too. "All right then, what constitutes a date that counts?"

"Hm, for a real first date the restaurant should be nice, with good food and low lighting. And we should be dressed up, like we are now, your suit and my dress."

"Is that all," he asks, putting a bite of food into his mouth.

"Well there should be… something there. Like, tension- a good type of tension, like butterflies or something. There should be an exciting element to it, if that makes any sense."

"Well then I stand by my statement. It's not really our first date."

She puts her fork down and looks at him, wondering what he's talking about for a moment before her widen and she smiles. "Paris," she says quietly.

"Paris," he confirms, and reaches across the table to hold her hand.


	2. Please Don't Get Married

His heart dropped to his feet and his throat dried up. "What?" he croaked.

"They're getting married," Harry repeated, slapping a hand on Draco's shoulder. "Ron proposed last night."

He was dizzy, and he wasn't sure how much longer his lunch would remain in his stomach. In the few seconds that followed memories of the past two years flashed through his mind. The time they'd spent together on research, the work lunches, the late nights working on new angles for their cases; her laugh, her wit, the way she bit her thumb nail as she thought, the way she always seemed to smell of vanilla and parchment; the way his skin prickled at her touch, how empty his day felt when she called in sick. He'd been denying it for so long, but in that moment it finally all came crashing together in one irrefutable fact; he was in love with Hermione Granger.

"That's great, I'll be sure to congratulate her."

Without waiting for Harry to respond, he left and headed towards Hermione's office. Her door was open and she sat hunched over her desk, scribbling away on a scroll of parchment.

"I hear congratulations are in order," he said, leaning against the door frame. She jumped and her hand went to her chest.

"Draco, don't do that to me!"

He smiled, and sauntered in, sitting in the chair across from her. "When were you going to tell me?" He hoped his tone came across as casual, and not as the anger that sat inside of him. "I thought we were friends," he added, hoping it seems like a joke.

Hermione avoided eye contact and began to shuffle around the papers on her desk. "We are friends I just… haven't had the time really."

"Oh so those four hours we spent on the McNealy case this morning was…"

She sighed. "I'm sorry, Draco. I don't know what you want me to say."

He forced another smile, and jumped up, slapping his hand playfully on her desk. "Just tell me what to get you for the wedding."

"Draco…"

"Forget it, I'll surprise you!"

He spent the next few months distancing himself from her. Working on the research alone, and made lunch plans with Potter, Pansy, Theo, anyone that wasn't her. He'd even accepted an invitation from Loony Luna, anything to not be near her.

"You're avoiding me," she said, standing in his doorway with her hands on her hips and her lips pulled into a thin line.

"I -" he started, taken by surprise. "No I'm not."

"Bullshit. Why are you avoiding me?"

He swallowed, then remembered what was in his desk drawer. "Here," he said, pulling out a small envelope and handing it out to her. "For your wedding."

"Don't think this changes the subject, Malfoy," she said, taking it and pulling it open. "Draco," she started, reading over the reservations for a hotel in Greece in her hands. "Draco this is…"

"You don't have to thank me, just have a good honeymoon."

She always spoke of going and he thought she'd love it. But when she looked up there were tears brimming in her eyes, and they weren't happy tears.

"I can't accept this," she said, slamming the papers down onto the desk. He was taken aback by the anger hiding behind her voice.

"But I thought -"

"Where do you get off paying for my honeymoon!?"

"Hermione I'm sorry, I really thought -"

"No, no you didn't. You didn't think at all, that's been your problem all along!" She stormed out of his office and it was her turn to avoid him.

She had a hen night four nights before the wedding; Draco knew because Pansy was invited. He sat in a muggle pub that night, and was six drinks deep when his phone rang and flashed Pansy's name. It seemed the girls had lost track of Hermione, and they were employing all of their resources to find her.

"Sorry Pans, I don't know where she is, but I'll be sure to let you know if I find her."

But he did know where she was and he found her there, sitting on the ledge of the fountain they regularly had lunch at. She saw him, and tried to stand and walk away.

"Woah there, Drunky," he said as she started to teeter.

"I'm not that drunk! Get your hands off of me!" she demanded, snatching her arm back and slurring her words. "You had no right! Not one single right to pay for my honeymoon!"

"Hermione I was just trying to be supportive, and I know you always wanted to go so -"

She ran her hands through her hair, tears filling her eyes."You weren't supposed to be supportive!" she yelled, shoving his chest. He stumbled back, but didn't fall. He put his hands on her shoulders.

"Then what was I supposed to do?!"

"I don't -" she looked down and wiped the tears from her cheeks.

"Tell me, Hermione! Tell me what to do and I'll do it. Please."

"You were just supposed to… You weren't - Oh I don't know what you were supposed to do but it wasn't that!" She stomped her foot and finally looked up at him, her cheeks were flushed with emotions and her lips were shimmering with tears. Adrenaline surged through his body and his breath rose from his chest and before he realized what he was doing, he kissed her.

Her lips were soft and salty and they sent a shock through his body like nothing he'd ever felt before. Every nerve in his body chilled and tingled. If they could find a way to turn that feeling into a spell they might have a counter to the Cruciatus Curse.

For a second his mind cleared and he realized that she was kissing him back, she was pressing her body into his and pulling at his coat. His thumbs went to her jaw and his fingers to the back of her neck, pulling her in still closer.

When they finally pulled apart they were both gasping for breath, but he still managed to get out the words he'd been dying to say for months.

"I love you, Hermione. I'm completely and utterly in love with you. Please don't get married."


	3. Surprise

Draco stands just outside of his home. He takes a deep breath, and fixes the knot of his tie. He dusts off lint that isn't there and tries his best to mentally prepare for what's on the other side of the the heavy wooden door in front of him.

He loves Hermione, he really does. He married her didn't he? They have two kids together don't they? He loves her, every bit of her. But sometimes he just wants to grab her by the face and yell, "are you mental!?"

He'd figured out what was going on more than a week ago. She'd left out the invoice for one hundred silver balloons, specially ordered with 'Happy Birthday Draco' dancing across them. But he pretended not to notice and instead began trying to drop small, subtle hints that he absolutely did not like surprises.

She didn't get them.

A few days later she received an alarming number of owls, and not once did she open a letter in front of him. She just tried not to smile and ran off to her office. But he kept quiet, hoping that maybe it could possibly be something else.

Then his mother sent him a letter. It read as usual for most of it, how she was doing, updates on his father, and questions about the kids; but then she'd signed it, "see you soon, love, mother" and he almost balled up the parchment right then and there.

"Hermione, love," he called, projecting his voice towards the stairs. Moments later she came gliding in as innocent as could be, strategically carrying their youngest on her hip.

"Yes?" she asked, a smile on her lips as she bounced their daughter. Any annoyance he had for her melted away, how could it not?

"I was thinking we could go out for dinner tonight," he said, instead of confronting her as planned. If she was bent on throwing this party, then he would just have to grin and bear it, and make sure it didn't happen again.

The next day Potter stopped by his office asked what size shoes he wore.

And then Pansy owled to ask if he still used those old cuff-links he had.

And then even his sweet little Scorpius enthusiastically told him how excited for the party he was.

He takes another deep breath and puts a hand on the door knob, bracing himself for the yelling and cheering and the general nerve wrecking energy associated with parties.

The front hall is dark, but then, he expects it to be. It wouldn't be a surprise if he saw every one as soon as he stepped in, now would it?

"Hermione!" he calls, setting his work bag by the door. "Scorp," he tries when Hermione doesn't answer. Scorpius was always ready to yell across the house. But he's met with silence. "Andy?" he throws out, as a last ditch effort as obviously their one year old wouldn't be responding to him in any kind of loquacious manner.

He rubs his temples. They were really playing into this whole surprise thing, weren't they? He heads to the dining room, figuring if they would be anywhere, it would be there.

But instead of balloons and music and everyone he's ever met yelling at him, he's met with his wife, standing in front of the table with her hair done up and his favorite dress on. Behind her the table is set for two and the food is already laid out and it smells amazing. She smiles at his disbelief.

"You didn't honestly think I was throwing you a surprise party, did you? I think I know you a bit better than that," she says, a laugh in her voice. He laughs and closes the space between them.

"You always did keep me on my toes, Granger," he says, before leaning down to kiss her.


	4. Don't Go

It's late and there's a storm raging outside and the order have just brought him to this dusty and creaky old house in the middle of nowhere and it's Tonks who has the first shift with him.

"Don't go," he thinks as he watches Hermione leave.

Over a week passes before it's her first turn and for three days she sits with him, reading and tending to the fire. And they don't speak because what on earth could he ever possibly say to her?

"Don't go," he almost says when she trades with Remus as he shows up for his watch.

Two more weeks pass and the next time she shows up her wrist is wrapped up and there's a bruise around her swollen eye. He resists the urge to ask what happens and instead they talk tentatively about the book Remus left behind.

"Don't go," he whispers as she trades shifts with yet another order member.

She's back on the next shift and on her fourth day there he asks where her relief is. But she looks away and grows distant and tells him there is no relief, that plans have changed, and she's it for now. So he changes the subject and they talk about nothing for what seems like forever and almost a week later comes the coded knock at the door that's finally signaling the shift change.

As she stand to answer it he swallows. "Don't go," he says, finally loud enough for her to hear it. She stares at him, searching his face and finding the pain in his eyes and the desperation in his words but the knock comes again and she has to leave.

He almost smiles at the sight of her three days later and when they're alone he opens his mouth to speak but she stops him. She doesn't want to talk about it, she just wants to sit there, beside him on the edge of the musty twin bed and not speak. So they do, until she falls asleep on his shoulder and he moves her and lets her have the bed. After a few more nights he's holding her while she sleeps and she doesn't know why but for some reason she just feels like she could sleep forever there.

Then one night the door flies open and Remus is yelling; they need her for what is sure to be the final battle so she gathers her things and turns to leave but he grabs her wrist.

"Don't go," he begs, the feeling in the pit of his stomach telling him that it may be the last time he sees her.

She caves to the urge she'd been fighting for so long and their lips crash together. He thinks the world could end right then and there and he wouldn't care. She pulls away and wraps her hand around his, pulling him with her into battle.

A curse hits the stone wall beside them and there's so much smoke and debris in the air but he still fires one right back at their attacker. He hears them fall with a thud and turns to look at her, a victorious smile on his face, but she's not there. She's on the floor, half under the fallen stone, and there's a gash on her head and crimson trickling out of her ear. He falls to his knees and pushes the rock away, pulling her into his lap and cradling her head and tears fall freely from his eyes as he pleads.

"Don't go. Please, _please_ don't go."


	5. Have You Lost Your Damn Mind

"So, I was thinking," Draco began as he crawled onto the bed to sit next to his wife after having just put their two year old down for a nap.

"Well that's never good," Hermione replied, setting the book she was reading aside. Draco ignored her playful jab and put a hand on her swollen belly.

"What if it's a girl?"

Hermione laughed. "I've only been telling you that for a month now!"

Draco scoffed, and re-positioned himself so that he was on his stomach, and both hands were on the baby. "Those muggle doctors don't know what they're talking about."

"Oh, alright then. Well what happened to, 'Malfoys don't have girls,'?" she asked, her voice changing to mock his aristocratic drawl. She chuckled as he sighed.

"Look, it's been known to happen, okay? Can I just get to my point?"

Hermione put on a saccharine smile. "By all means, dear husband, continue."

"Like I was saying," he started, his voice taking on a pointed tone so as to ignore her sarcasm before changing to a more serious but softer tone, "if it's a girl, what about… Cassiopeia?"

"Have you lost your mind?" Hermione asked, humor still in her voice. "Cassiopeia?"

"We could call her Cassi!" he defended.

"Draco," she said, exasperated. "Look, if you insist on carrying on the constellation naming tradition," she motioned toward the bedroom door, indicating their son, Scorpius, "then we are most certainly not picking Cassiopeia."

"It's a family name, far enough back!" Draco protested. Hermione kept going.

"Especially not when there is a perfectly good, more meaningful, closer family name available!"

Draco looked confused for a second before his features relaxed and he smiled. "Andromeda," he said softly. Hermione nodded and Draco chuckled. "Oh, not sure how Mother will take it though…"

"Your mother gets no say in what we name our child. She got over me, she'll get over a name."

From the hall came a small cry, and the couple paused their conversation for a moment, listening for another.

"I'm not sure she got over you so much as she learned how to deal with it," Draco continued when they were met with silence.

Hermione shrugged. "Potato, potato."

"What?"

The baby cried again.

"Nothing," Hermione said, moving to get off of the bed and check on her son.

Draco jumped up, rushing to the door. "You stay, I got him." Then, he smiled. "Andromeda, yeah, I like that."

Hermione couldn't keep the giant grin from her face if she wanted to. She made herself comfortable once again and picked up her book. Now she just had to get him to agree on a middle name.


	6. 4AM

It's 4am and they're sharing a safe house two months after Draco'd gone to the order for help.

It's 4am and he's long since been woken up by his vivid nightmares and cold sweats.

It's 4am and he can't help but stare at her sleeping form, can't stop watching her chest rise and fall with her steady breath, can't think of anything else other what would happen if he were to just reach out and tuck her hair behind her ear.

It's 4am and he's shifting through his memories, alternating between all of the hateful things he'd said and done to her before and all of the things she'd done to help him.

It's 4am and she starts to stir, flinching and whining in a way he'd yet to see her do, her breath growing shallow and tears falling to her cheeks.

It's 4am and he plucks up the courage to cross the room and kneel beside her, to reach out a trembling hand and put it on her shoulder; anything to help her like she'd helped him.

It's 4am and she calms at his touch, still asleep yet reaching out for his hand.

It's 4am and his fingers graze her temple as he sweeps a curl of her hair out of her face and curls his fingers around hers.

It's 4am and her eyes flutter open.


	7. Take It Off

"You heard me, Granger. Take it off. Now."

Hermione's lips twitch because she's trying not to laugh, she really is. Her arms are crossed and her eyebrows are arched but she just can't stop the corners of her lips from trying to curl up.

"You think this is funny?" Draco says, slamming a hand on her desk.

Hermione casually shrugs and looks away. "I'm slightly amused, yes. But, the charm should wear off on its own in about forty-five minutes, so…"

"I have a meeting with the Minister in half an hour!"

She can't stop the burst of laughter from leaving her throat. "I guess you should have thought about that before you sent half a dozen Dungbombs to Ron's office!"

Draco's eyes glaze over for just a moment as he replays the memory in his head. Totally worth it. "Oh, so you're his frizzy little attack dog now, are you?" He retorts, jumping back into reality.

"Hardly. I saw an opportunity and I took it."

"How very Slytherin of you."

Hermione rolls her eyes because of course that's something Malfoy would say. She brings her hand up to study her nails, removing a small bit of grime with her thumb.

"Damn it, I don't have time for this!" He exclaims. "I'll apologize to the Weasel, okay. Is that what you want to hear?"

"I want to do more than hear it."

"I'll do it, I promise. Just -" He motions to his now bright red hair and the freckles marking up his once perfect complexion. Hermione smirks, satisfied with his response. Maybe she would have let him suffer just a little longer had she not had her own work to get back to; but knowing he had to cross two floors like that to get to her office more than made up for it.

With a muttered incantation and few small wand movements Draco's hair drains of color and returns to his original white-blonde and the freckles fade from his cheeks. He shoots one last glare at her before opening the door and leaving.

Hermione almost sits but stops as the door opens again.

"Also, I'm not sure if that's something you're actually into or not, but we are not bringing that home."

Hermione lets out a sound of indignation and sends a nondescript but mostly harmless spell his way, prompting him to slam the door to dodge it.


	8. Before You Decide to Murder Me

Draco squared his shoulders and cleared his throat. "I'm sorry, Hermione, Love, Mother of my Child, Light of my Life," he started, his words growing more and more terse with each pet name, "I'm sure I didn't quite hear you correctly."

"Now, Draco… please just -" Hermione pleaded, holding her hands out in front of her.

"Because it sounded as though you said you offered our house, our lovely home, the place where our son sleeps," he stopped and took a steadying breath, "up for the Werewolf Rights Gala,"

"I know you're upset, and you have every right to be, but before you decide to murder me, just let me -"

"Where hundreds of people will be traipsing in and out, wandering about as they please,"

Hermione gave up, and decided to just let him finish.

"Through our kitchen, our living room, my study, your study, possibly even Scorpius' room, each and every one of them poking their nose around exactly where it doesn't belong." He looked to her, waiting for her to interject. But she knew he was just waiting until she tried, only so he could continue on with a dramatic effect, and instead just raised her brows.

"I am a tremendously private person, Hermione."

She nodded with sympathy. "I know you are."

"And my home is my sanctuary."

Another sympathetic nod. "I know it is."

"So what, in Merlin's name, possessed you to do such a thing?"

She waited, and then waited just a few more seconds to be sure he was finished. "The Gala will be held, outside, on the front lawn. There will be external caterers set up in their own area, outside, on the front lawn. Portable lavatories, with their own clean up crew, will be raised, outside, on the front lawn. There will be a performance on a temporary stage, outside, on the front lawn. The guests will eat from their tables, outside, on the front lawn. And they will all gaze up at the house, whispering and gossiping about what could possibly be inside and about how the Malfoys could possibly live their lives inside of it; all from their seats, outside, on the front lawn."

She folded her arms and waited, a soft smile on her lips.

His brow furrowed. "No one will step foot inside?"

"Not one toe."

"And there will be buzz, and outrageous rumors generated from this event?"

"Of the juiciest sort."

Draco sighed, as though he'd just given up on the big prize, but then smile and pulled her into his chest. "You played me, didn't you?"

She laughed. "Just a little."


End file.
